


Shards

by Elycien



Category: Hyper Light Drifter
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 23:29:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7142759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elycien/pseuds/Elycien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drifting is a dangerous profession. It leaves its marks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shards

As beautiful as the forests of the West were, they were deadly. 

A single misstep, a lapse in timing. And Drifter was screaming as razor-sharp crystals burst through his leg, pinning him in place. For a moment, he nearly blacked out. It was only through sheer force of will and a well-practiced resistance to pain that he was able to remain conscious. For a moment he lay curled on the ground beside the bed of crystals, his sides heaving as he fought to keep in control. 

The glassy spikes were stronger than they looked, and they’d embedded themselves deep in the muscles of his leg. Pulling himself free was not going to be an option. But if he could break them-- Wincing with every movement, Drifter pulled out his pistol and took careful aim at the spikes trapping his leg. He held his hand as steady as he could manage and fired.

As soon as the crystals had broken, Drifter tried to pull himself free. He wasn’t fast enough. He had only moved his mangled leg a few inches when the broken crystals erupted up again, further lacerating his flesh and sending white-hot stabs of pain up through his body. Drifter was dimly aware that he was screaming again, his body twisted in agony, but he didn’t seem able to do anything about it. He must have truly lost consciousness this time, because the next thing he knew his throat was aching from his cries and there was a thin trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. Clumsily he wiped it away, grimly wondering what to do next. The force of the crystals might well break his leg if he tried that again. If he couldn’t free himself - well, it left no good options. And he couldn’t reach his sword. It lay just out of reach, several feet away where he’d dropped it when he fell.

He was straining uselessly to reach it, gritting his teeth at the pain, when he heard a low snarl. Drifter’s entire body tensed. The crystal wolves had scented blood, or perhaps they had heard his cries. Across the bed of crystals, he spotted one, low to the ground with the crystals along its neck flared out like hackles as it approached. Shakily he grabbed for his pistol again, wondering if his aim was still good enough to shoot it down before it reached him. Or if it would even matter if he succeeded.

With a savage growl, the wolf leaped, and Drifter fired. The shot went wide and broke off a swathe of crystals in its wake. With a last desperate burst of adrenaline, Drifter threw himself to the side, instinctively activating the boosts in his boots to lend him speed. He let out a strangled yell as his leg tore free of the crystals, and skidded along the ground leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

Painfully he raised himself up on one elbow and lifted the gun, only to lower it again at the grisly sight of the wolf skewered by the crystals that had trapped him only moments before. With both a shudder and a silent sigh of relief, Drifter put away the gun and reached for his sword. With luck he could make it far enough to reach an underground enclave he recalled in this area. It had seemed abandoned - safe - and he thought he remembered a cache of medkits there. Hopefully he remembered correctly.

The chamber was not far, but it seemed an eternity away. Drifter’s mangled leg couldn’t hold his weight, and he had to lean heavily on his sword to even get upright. He was breathing heavily and shaking by the time he reached the place. As soon as he was underground he collapsed against the wall, trembling violently. Gingerly he stretched out his leg, a quiet moan escaping involuntarily from his throat. 

The damage was even worse than he’d thought. His boot and pants leg had been shredded to pieces, revealing bloodied skin that hung off his leg in strips. The lacerations were so deep he could see flashes of white bone underneath his torn muscles. Worse still, a few shards of crystal remained, buried deep in his flesh. At least one splinter was flush against the bone. If they were still active-- Drifter had seen what happened when the crystals of the west took root in a living being’s body. It wasn’t pretty.

He could dig them out when the area was numbed. Tearing his gaze away from his mutilated limb, Drifter reached for the medical crate beside him and pulled out a medpack injection. He tensed, took a moment to steady himself, then plunged the needle into his thigh.

Instantly, it was torture. Blinding agony ripped through Drifter’s body, and he was vaguely aware of his shoulder slamming into the ground as he fell and instinctively curled in on himself. The stimulants always made it worse for a few seconds, but usually he wasn’t this badly injured. This time those few seconds seemed like a lifetime. By the time the pain receded, he was shaking uncontrollably and his breath came in harsh pants. Drifter had to gulp back sobs, clenching his teeth hard as he tried to quiet himself.

His leg was filled with a dull tingling ache, but it was bearable. Clumsily Drifter levered himself up with one arm and tried to start pulling out the crystals embedded in his flesh. It was more difficult than he’d anticipated. His hands quickly became slippery with blood, and he was shaking too badly to get a solid grip on the small, jagged shards. He had only managed to remove one, a sharp stabbing pain shooting through his leg as it tore free, when he heard the lift descending.

Drifter swore under his breath and grabbed his pistol. With one shaking, bloodstained hand, he held it up and pointed it at the lift, ready to shoot on sight. It was not a heavy weapon, but he could barely keep his grip on it, let alone aim straight. He could not quite suppress the sinking feeling that this was going to be a very short fight.

As soon as the figure on the lift became visible, Drifter fired, and missed. In the gloom he could not make out more than a large silhouette. Trembling with pain and adrenaline, he pushed back with his good leg and pressed his back against the wall, firing again as they started to approach him. This time he clipped the intruder’s side, and heard a low grunt of pain.

But then they spoke, their voice sharp with alarm. “Drifter! Drifter, it’s me! It’s okay!”

Horrified, Drifter dropped his gun to the ground with a clatter. “G-guardian-- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s all right. You only grazed me.” The taller drifter crouched in front of him. “I - I hoped I was wrong, when I wondered if that blood trail would lead to you.”

Drifter let out a small, nervous laugh, still shaken by how close he’d come to seriously hurting or killing Guardian. “O-of course it was me. I’m not what you’d call lucky.”

Even in the gloom of the underground, Guardian could see that Drifter’s leg was badly mangled. Their eyes narrowed. “Let me take a look.” They had their droid turn on a light, and softly swore under their breath as they saw the full extent of the damage. Their eyes darted up to meet Drifter’s, expression grim. “...There’s still crystals embedded in… in…”

“I know. I - I was trying to remove them, b-but it’s… difficult.”

“Let me help. I probably have steadier hands,” Guardian said, almost immediately. Drifter almost smiled; they knew him well enough by now to request, not ask. When asked if he needed help, Drifter had a very difficult time saying yes, even to Guardian.

(But no matter how many times Guardian helped him, they didn’t view him as weak. Drifter knew that by now, too.)

“Thank you,” Drifter murmured, slumping back against the wall. Truth be told, it was taking a great deal of stamina simply to lean forward; stamina he couldn’t spare. Guardian braced themself and reached into Drifter’s torn leg to pull out the remaining shards. Just the touch made Drifter let out a sharp, choked gasp of pain, and he had to shut his eyes tight to hide the encroaching tears as Guardian started to dig the shards out. When the first one tore loose, slicing an already-flayed tendon on its way out, Drifter cried out and clenched his fists against the floor, squeezing them so hard that his claws were starting to draw blood from his own palms. Guardian looked up at him, worried.

“Drifter--”

“Keep… keep going,” Drifter gasped out, fighting to steady his breathing again. “It’ll be w-worse if you stop, we- we both know that.”

Guardian nodded grimly, and leaned down over Drifter’s leg again. Their shoulders were hunched, occasionally flinching when Drifter let out a particularly pained cry. Drifter was starting to feel light-headed, and dimly realized how fortunate he was that Guardian had shown up when they did. There was no way he would have been able to dig out all of the crystals on his own. By the end he was swimming in and out of consciousness, only really aware of the pain clawing at his leg. Something… something was making a truly dreadful noise, high and thin and scratchy. It took him a few seconds - or maybe it was a few minutes - to realize it was him.

He didn’t really notice when Guardian stopped. By this point his leg was simply a blaze of pain, the medpack’s analgesics either weakening or failing entirely at this severe an injury. All he knew was that something, no, _someone_ was drawing close, slipping an arm around his thin shoulders.

As a rule, Drifter did not like to be touched, but the voice in his ears was kind. Familiar. He found himself slumping in their arms - Guardian’s arms, strong and gentle, wrapping him around him and holding him close. He let his head fall against their chest and breathed in shakily, filling his lungs with the scent of them. Only now could he finally feel the tension of the last several hours slowly leaving his body.

_Safe._

…

He woke lying in Guardian’s bed much as he had several months before, except this time the pain in his leg when he moved it was a quick reminder that he would not be healing from this that easily. His wounds had been bandaged and cleaned while he was unconscious; with the bandages, his leg looked once more its proper shape. It wasn’t splinted either - a relief as he realized it was not broken after all. Amidst the agony in the immediate aftermath of his injury, he hadn’t at all been sure.

And there was one other difference, sitting and dozing on the floor by the foot of the bed; Guardian had not left yet. Drifter’s heart lifted at the sight of them. He sat up and swung around to touch his feet to the floor, trying to go quietly so he didn’t wake them, but he needn’t have bothered. Guardian raised their head as soon as he shifted.

“You’re awake,” they said, sounding as pleased as he felt. “Don’t try to get up yet. You’re going to need to rest that leg for a few days before it’s ready to take your weight.”

Drifter gazed down at his bandaged limb, frowning slightly. Well, it could have easily been worse - he could have lost it entirely. “Thank you. How long was I out?”

“Only a night. I don’t think you lost as much blood as it looked like.” Guardian sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Drifter. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore as hell and like someone stuck pins all down my leg, but other than that…” Drifter tried to stretch out his bad leg and winced. “...I’m not walking around any time soon, am I?”

Slowly, Guardian shook their head. “Doc thinks you’re likely to have a limp even once it heals. Injuries like that…”

“I know. Honestly, it’s a wonder nothing like this happened to me sooner.” Drifters did not have an easy life. Lost eyes, limbs, permanent damage… he’d often wondered what marks Guardian was hiding under their armor and helmet, not that it was any of his business. He himself carried his fair share of scars, but nothing debilitating. Not until now. He took a deep breath. “I’ll… I’ll figure it out. And if I’m stuck here, I’ll make the most of it. I’ll do some more research on the modules, maybe, and-- shooting practice, I don’t have to stand for that.” He stopped short as Guardian clapped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tight.

“For what it’s worth? If you’re stuck somewhere, I’m glad it’s here.”

Drifter met their eyes, caught off guard. “You’ll… help me, won’t you? As I’m recovering?”

Another squeeze to his shoulder before they let go. “Every step of the way.”


End file.
